


The Truth is Out There

by JDaydreamer



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, TXF AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 09:44:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3932143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JDaydreamer/pseuds/JDaydreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>X-Files AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this on Tumblr, but wrote the second part for AU week and decided to bring it over here.

The office is buzzing with activity as Myka finally locks her computer screen to stand from her desk, donning a blazer over her crisp button down shirt. She takes a moment to pull on the blazer, adjusting the sleeves and sweeping brunette curls from the collar. She knows she’s stalling. She has a meeting with Assistant Director Nielsen in less than ten minutes and her stomach is already beginning to knot with anticipation. She’s never met the man before, but his reputation is a formidable one. She can only speculate why he’s asked to meet with her today.

She makes her way down the long hallway taking little notice of those she passes, her focus intent on the office at the end of the hall. Raising her hand to knock on the door, she pauses to take a deep breath, finally rapping her knuckles on the wood to exude a confidence she doesn’t quite feel.

“Come in,” a voice answers the knock.

Myka steps inside the office, quickly closing the door behind her. AD Nielsen sits behind a large desk and beside him sits a black woman who stares unflinchingly at Myka as she steps further inside but doesn’t introduce herself.

“Agent Bering, thank you for coming on such short notice,” AD Nielsen greets her. “Please take a seat,” he directs her to a chair in front of his desk. “I see you’ve been with us just over two years,” he says glancing over an open folder.

“Yes Sir.”

“You studied medicine but chose not to practice, is that right?”

“Yes, much to my father’s dismay,” Myka sighs. 

“How then did you come to work for the FBI?”

“I was recruited out of medical school and just felt the FBI was a place where I could distinguish myself,” she smiles.

“And so you have, and will continue to do so,” Nielsen says. “Which brings me to the reason you’re here now. Are you familiar with an agent named HG Wells?”

“Yes I am,” Myka nods.

“Oh? How so?” Nielsen asks, bushy eyebrows rising in surprise.

Myka smiles at the sight. “Only by reputation. She’s an Oxford educated psychologist, generally thought of as the best analyst in the violent crimes section.”

“She was,” Nielsen agrees somewhat reluctantly. “It seems Agent Wells has developed a consuming devotion to an unassigned project outside the bureau mainstream. Are you familiar with the so-called X-files?”

“I believe they have to do with unexplained phenomena,” Myka answers carefully.

“More or less,” Nielsen assents. “The reason you’re here Agent Bering is we want you to assist Wells on these X-files. You will write field reports on your activities along with your observations on the validity of the work.”

Myka contemplates what Nielsen and apparently the still silent woman beside him are asking of her. It sounds like she’s being pulled from her current position to babysit a fellow agent, to curb her eccentricities. “Sir, am I to understand you want me to expose the X-files?”

“Agent Bering, we are trusting you to make the proper scientific analysis, that is all,” Nielsen replies. “Contact Agent Wells shortly. We look forward to seeing your reports.”

Myka knows a dismissal when she hears one. With a slight nod of head and a parting glance at the woman beside Nielsen, Myka leaves the office and any further discussion behind her.

“She isn’t pleased with this assignment,” Nielsen says adjusting his glasses. “She looked as if she was being punished,” he shakes his head.

“Her pleasure isn’t our concern, Arthur. The Regents agreed that she is the obvious choice to discredit the X-files. I grant you Agent Bering no doubt had different plans regarding her career, but working one case with Agent Wells and I’m sure any displeasure she feels now will dissipate. Above all else, Agent Bering is a woman who seeks knowledge in whatever capacity that may entail. Agent Wells is becoming increasingly heedless in her ways with complete disregard for protocol. As a partner, Agent Bering will steady her and in the process, she will soon discover the X-files are anything but a punishment but see them for the endless wonder they are,” the woman smiles.

***

Myka takes the elevator down to the basement floor. The doors part to reveal a dimly lit hallway, deserted except for shelves of forgotten case files. There is a light at the end of the hall, emanating from what Myka knows to be Wells’ office. Taking another deep breath, Myka resolves to make the best of this surprising situation she finds herself in. 

Knocking on the door she hears the woman’s English accent sing song, “Sorry, no one here but the FBI’s most unwanted.”

Myka pushes open the door, her first cursory glance into the room finds Agent Wells with her back turned as she studies photographs at a desk. Myka takes the opportunity before Wells acknowledges her to study the surroundings of the office. There are case files covering every flat surface and there are odd artifacts all over the room, Myka only guessing at their origins. Photographs also adorn nearly every surface of the walls; varied pictures of the cosmos, lightening bolts, grainy photos of the Loch Ness monster and bigfoot, a poster of a UFO with the caption ‘I want to believe,’ photographs of Einstein and Tesla among so many others.

Myka could spend hours just studying all the photographs, however she isn’t given the chance as Agent Wells suddenly looks up from her work, a pencil holding her dark hair in a loose bun, no doubt to keep it out of her way, the sleeves of her button-down blouse rolled up over elbows to serve the same purpose.

Myka smiles attempting to put aside any reservations she may have working with the other woman and steps forward, hand outstretched in introduction. “Agent Wells, I’m Myka Bering. I’ve been assigned to work with you,” she says as the other woman takes her hand in a firm grip.

“Well isn’t it nice to be suddenly so highly regarded? Who did you annoy to get stuck with this detail, Bering?” Wells regards her.

“Actually, I’m looking forward to working with you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Really? I was under the impression that you were sent to spy on me,” she smirks.

“If you have any doubt about my qualification or credentials…” Myka begins to argue.

Agent Wells interrupts her. “I’m well aware of your qualifications, Agent Bering. You’re a medical doctor, you teach at the Academy and received your undergraduate degree in physics, is that accurate?”

“That’s right,” Myka answers standing a little taller as Agent Wells stands from her desk, removing the pencil from her hair so that it tumbles over her shoulders. Myka continues to watch her run a hand through that hair, attempting to smooth it back from any disarray. “You don’t think my background qualifies me for this position?” she prods. 

“It’s not a matter of qualification,” Wells explains. It’s just that what I deal in, the rules of physics don’t often apply.”

Myka wrinkles her nose at this. “The rules of physics apply to everything,” she states, subconsciously stepping closer to the other woman. 

Wells’ dark eyes shine with something of amusement. “Do they?” she asks stepping forward. “Tell me Agent Bering, do you believe in the existence of time travelers?”

Myka frowns. “You mean extraterrestrials?”

“I believe that is the more common name for them. Certainly they are entities not of this earth.” 

“Then logically I would have to say no. Given the distances needed to travel in the far reaches of space the energy requirements would exceed a space craft’s capabilities…”

Agent Wells sighs. “Conventional wisdom,” she brushes aside Myka’s explanation. “When convention and science offer us no answers, might we finally turn to the fantastic as an explanation?”

“What I find _fantastic_ is the notion that there are any answers beyond the realm of science. The answers are there. You just have to look for them,” Myka insists.

“That’s why they put the I in FBI,” Wells smiles approvingly. “See you tomorrow morning Agent Bering, bright and early.”

Myka walks to the doorway, turning back for a last glance at the infamous HG Wells, noticing the woman already absorbed in some case report, absently twisting her hair into another bun, placing the pencil through long strands to hold it in place. Myka smiles at the sight. The woman is intriguing to say the least. Perhaps this new assignment will be an enlightening one.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun has long ago set when they return to their darkened motel, the rain continuing its relentless downpour. “It appears the storm has knocked out the power,” Agent Wells comments as she parks the car in front of their room. “I’ll speak with the manager, see if he has any kerosene lamps.”

Myka doesn’t respond, only silently exits the vehicle as Agent Wells dashes through the rain across the parking lot to the manager’s office. Myka quickly walks to their room, pulling out the key and with unsteady fingers and two failed attempts, finally manages to unlock the door to let herself inside. Turning on her flashlight, she sets it on the dresser, then removes her soaked coat to drape it across a chair to dry. 

Tiredly, she sits on her bed awaiting Agent Wells’ return. Myka can’t explain what she’s experienced today. Only a few days ago in Agent Wells’ office, she was convinced there was no such thing as extraterrestrials. That seems a lifetime ago now and she wonders just how AD Nielsen expects her to expose the X-Files when she quite frankly can’t explain anything this case has wrought so far. Not the strange marks on each of the victims’ lower back, not the sand-like substance found all over the forest floor, not the way their car completely lost power on a deserted road, and if Agent Wells is to be believed, the way they lost nine minutes of time in the blink of an eye. Most of all, Myka can’t explain why all of that should excite and drive Agent Wells the way it apparently does. The woman was ecstatic standing in the middle of the open road, heedless of the rain pouring down on them both as she laughed giddily about losing nine minutes of time. As if that was some sort of personal achievement for her.

Myka startles when the door opens, the sound of the rain hitting the pavement intruding on her thoughts before Agent Wells quickly closes the door behind her.

“No kerosene lamps unfortunately, but we do have a few candles,” she says setting them on the table before removing her coat. She searches through a pocket pulling out a matchbox and swiftly strikes one, a flame sparking to life. Myka watches her as she proceeds to carefully light each candle, emitting a soft glow inside the room.

“Well that certainly sets the mood, doesn’t it?” Wells quips as she turns shining eyes on Myka. The light in her eyes extinguishes when she notices Myka sitting huddled on the bed, arms wrapped around herself and green eyes full of questions.

“Are you alright, Agent Bering?” Agent Wells asks her in that lilting English accent that even after everything they’ve been through today remains perfectly calm. Her eyes though give her away, dark and concerned.

Myka makes an attempt to brush a hand through her hair, wincing when her finger snags on a curly strand. One thing she is certain of, running through the Oregon woods in the wet weather has only served to make her naturally curly hair more unruly than usual. Her clothes are still damp and she’s beginning to shiver with cold, if not in reaction to the events of the day. She has no doubt that she must look a sight with wet clothes, unruly hair, her face no doubt betraying the fluster she feels. Agent Wells by contrast looks cool and collected as she simply brushes aside a stray strand of dark hair.

But instead of voicing any true sentiment or asking questions of her own, Myka merely answers, “I’m fine.”

“Are you certain?” Wells prods with a frown. “You’re shivering, “ she observes, moving to gather a blanket from a bed to cover her new partner with, but before she has a chance, the other woman is rising from the bed.

“I just need a warm shower and then get some sleep; I’ll be fine. Is it alright if I use the shower first?”

“Of course,” Wells easily assents.

Myka nods her thanks, quickly gathering her bag and a candle before locking herself inside the small bathroom. She leans against the door for a moment, taking in a deep breath. She can’t explain the events of the past few days on this case and it’s unsettling to say the least. She just needs time to process, to gain some perspective. Hoping a shower will give her that time to process as well as help warm her skin to a normal temperature, she begins to undress from wet clothing.

The jeans she wears cling uncomfortably to her skin, taking a fair bit of coaxing to shed them down long legs. Her shirt offers less resistance as she pulls it over her head before folding it neatly and returning it to her bag. Clad only in her bra and underwear, she moves to start the water of the shower, but catches her reflection in the mirror. There appear to be three small red marks on her lower back. Twisting her body she attempts to get a better look but the angle and the dim light of the candle make it difficult to determine exactly what the marks are.

Her heart rate speeds up, her mind immediately turning to those mysterious marks she and Agent Wells have been investigating; marks that may be related to three deaths in their investigation. Unable to fully examine them, she can’t be certain if they’re the same or not. Fear lodges within her chest; fear that she knows is entirely illogical and yet, all day she has been confronted with the illogical.

Delving into her bag, she quickly pulls out her bathrobe to slip on. She needs someone else to look at these marks, to tell her if they’re the same as found on the victims or not. She needs to know the truth and Agent Wells is the only one she can turn to.

Unlocking the door, Myka steps out into the bedroom, Agent Wells glancing up from where she sits on her bed, the case file spread before her.

“Done so soon?” Wells asks before seeing a look of fear on the other woman’s face. “Agent Bering?” she asks throwing her legs over the side of the bed to stand. “Are you alright?”

“I need you to look at something,” Myka implores.

“Alright,” Wells answers cautiously. She is momentarily startled then when Myka turns her back and unties her robe, slipping the garment off her shoulders to reveal a slender body and perfect skin. Wells’ mouth goes slack and she feels as if she is slow to catch up on something with this beautiful woman standing before her nearly nude. She is at a loss where to look but then Myka is asking her a question rather frantically.

“What are they?”

Ah, yes, now Wells knows where and what she should be looking at as Myka gestures to the area of her lower back. Grasping a candle in her hand, Wells slowly kneels behind the taller woman, lifting the candle close to Myka’s back, seeing the three red marks there, exploring them with gentle fingertips.

The touch elicits goose bumps along Myka’s sensitive skin and she asks again nervously, “What are they?”

Wells studies the marks a moment longer, and then smiles at her deduction. “Mosquito bites,” she declares.

“Are you sure?” Myka gasps.

“Quite sure,” Wells says standing again. “Nasty little creatures, I nearly got eaten alive myself out there,” she grins as Myka quickly pulls the robe back on, tying the sash before falling into Wells’ arms with unmistakable relief.

Wells’ arms fall naturally around Myka’s waist, feeling the other woman’s breath hot against her shoulder as she clings to her. “Are you alright?” she asks again rubbing a soothing hand along Myka’s back. “You’re shaking.”

Myka steps away, self-consciously pushing a stray curl from her face, not meeting Wells’ eyes. “I’m okay. I just need to sit down,” she manages a weak smile as she sits on a bed.

Agent Wells pulls a blanket from her own bed to gather it around Myka’s shoulders, gently rubbing at her arms hoping to expedite any warmth.

“I imagine the last few days have been…quite a lot to take in, process,” Wells speaks sympathetically.

Myka wants to laugh at the understatement that is. The last few days she has traveled across the country to investigate a string of deaths, of which the common denominator in all of them are mysterious marks found on each of the victims’ lower backs. Marks that all Myka can determine based on their tissue samples is that they’re organic, but their substance is like nothing she’s seen before, she can’t explain them; science can’t explain them. Added to that, she has spent the better part of the night in the woods, looking for some explanation to the unexplained, threatened by the local law enforcement, and apparently lost time if Agent Wells is to be believed. And now she has just had her own scare, embarrassingly so, influenced by recent events.

“You could say that,” Myka concedes with a short burst of laughter as she moves further onto the bed trying to get comfortable. “Thank you for your concern,” she says softly.

“Of course,” Wells says as she returns to her own bed. “Honestly, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t unsettled just a little. After all, I’ve immersed myself in unexplained events for years. This is only your first jaunt into unchartered territory as it were; I’ve been dealing with things of this nature for a few years now.”

“Why are you so invested in the X-files? What do you expect to find in them?” Myka asks curious.

“The truth,” comes the quick reply.

Myka bites her lip, contemplating the woman before her. There’s more than she’s letting on. Why would a brilliant woman such as HG Wells change course from a promising career in the violent crimes section where she was lauded for her work, suddenly drop all that to pursue cases of unexplained phenomena?

“In your office the other day, you referred to extraterrestrials as time travelers – why?”

“They essentially are,” Wells answers, grasping at the necklace she wears around her neck. “As you said, it’s illogical to conceive of a space craft that would have the energy to travel the distance of the far reaches of space. But if the beings piloting those crafts have a way to bend time, it’s not so inconceivable they can travel such distances.”

“Another theory,” Myka dismisses.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not,” Wells answers quietly and for a moment remains silent, the only sound in the room the dull drum of the rain from outside. “Also…” she breaks the silence, “my daughter called them time travelers.”

And if Myka thought she couldn’t be any more surprised, this has certainly proven how wrong she was. “Your daughter?”

“Yes. My Christina. She was only five when she disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“That was the final classification of her file. Local authorities determined she must have been kidnapped.”

“But you don’t agree?”

“No. Christina used to speak of these time travelers,” Wells smiles sadly. “I thought she was just making up stories as children do. I thought they were merely imaginary friends she had created. She spoke of them often, fantastic tales of their land and how they intended to take her to that land one day. Apparently they carried out their plan.”

“And you believe that?”

“I have no reason not to believe that. I worked late the night Christina disappeared. She was left in the care of a nanny, Sophie, an extremely reliable woman whom I trusted implicitly. Sophie spoke of a light, so bright as to blind her for several moments, rendering her paralyzed from getting to Christina. When the light finally subsided, Christina was gone.”

Myka doesn’t know what to say to the distraught woman, the simple words ‘I’m sorry’ not seeming enough to express her own emotion, but it’s all she has to offer so say them she does.

“I’m sorry…Helena,” Myka says softly, using Agent Wells’ given name for the first time, feeling calling her by her surname not personal enough to use in an offer of empathy.

Agent Wells draws in a quick breath. It’s been a long time since anyone has called her by her given name, longer still that her name has been spoken by anyone so lovely as Myka Bering.

Myka hears the intake of breath and hurries on, “I’m sorry, I know most people call you HG, I just thought…I mean…that is your name, isn’t it? Helena?”

“It is indeed,” Helena assures. “And thank you, Myka.”

“For what?” Myka asks genuinely confused.

“For embarking on this quest with me, at least until you can get a better assignment or expose my work as the fraud so many believe it to be.”

“Helena, I’m here the same as you, to find the truth,” Myka says so emphatically Helena actually believes her.

“The truth is out there, Myka, and I intend to find it.”

“Well you don’t have to do it alone,” Myka replies sincerely. “We’re partners now. We’ll discover the truth together.”

Helena feels something within her chest swell at the words. It feels a little like promise. “Partners,” she agrees.


End file.
